‘We’ve found it here in the city,’ he said. ‘It’s turned up in the Crowngate car park.’
‘Good work,’ Patterson said. ‘Alvin, get a forensics team over there to give it the once-over.’
‘That’s already been actioned,’ the constable said, flushing at Patterson’s glare. ‘The chief super was in the control room when the report came in. He actioned it, sir.’
‘Typical,’ Patterson muttered. ‘The one chance we get to look like we’re doing something and the brass nick it.’
‘As long as somebody’s chasing it up,’ Ambrose muttered.
‘We’ve been backtracking it on the cameras,’ the constable carried on uncertainly. ‘We found it entering the parking structure at 9.43 p.m. So we worked back through the road and traffic-light cams. We think whoever drove it into the city nicked it from the car park on the M42 services. Because, see, we checked back on their cameras, and it was parked there mid-morning. It’s hard to see much of the driver, but it could be Vance with a baseball cap on. You can see he’s got tattoos on his arms … ’ As he spoke, he splayed camera stills over the desk. ‘Then he puts on a jacket and walks away. Hours later, a completely different bloke comes down the line of cars. See? It’s hard to be sure, but it looks like he’s trying the doors. And he’s a completely different height and build to the guy who parked it.’
‘Lovely,’ Ambrose said. ‘Cracking job. Can we see where Vance went after he parked the car?’
‘Not so far. He either went to another car, or inside the services building or to the motel. That’s his only choices. We’re working on all the footage right now. Everybody’s being really helpful for once.’
‘Nobody likes a serial killer,’ Ambrose said. Re-energised by the new information, he jumped to his feet. ‘I’m going out there right now with a team. Print me out a sheaf of those shots. And keep me posted with whatever you find out about Vance.’ He looked a question at Patterson, who shook his head.
‘Just send a team, Sergeant. You need to be here, keeping an eye on things.’
‘But sir—’
‘You’re wasted out there. That’s a job for foot soldiers, not for anybody who wants to make a good impression on the new regime.’
Ambrose felt the urge to punch Patterson on the nose, to knock some sense into a man who had taught him much of what he understood about being a good detective. If this was what thwarted ambition did to a man, God spare him from that particular lust. Deflated, he sat down again. ‘Good job,’ he said to the constable. ‘Keep me in the loop.’ Then he reached for the phone. ‘I’d better get a team organised, then.’
‘You better had,’ Patterson said, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll be in the canteen.’
There were two lap-dancing clubs within easy cycling distance of Bradfield International Airport. Both denied ever having employed Leanne Considine. Both managers were stony-faced, clearly well-practised in the art of giving nothing away to law enforcement. After the second knock-back, Sam and Kevin sat in the car grumbling at each other, neither coming up with anything more constructive than waiting in the car park till the girls started coming out. ‘They won’t talk to us,’ Sam said gloomily. ‘We’re going to be sat here for hours, all for nothing.’
‘That’s even supposing it was this club she worked at. We could be totally wasting our time here. There’s a burger van about a mile down the road. We could fuel up to keep us going while we wait.’
Sam sighed. It wasn’t his idea of a good time, but anything was better than sitting here doing nothing. Kevin started the engine and headed for the exit. Sam kept his eye on the club and just as they were about to turn on to the main road, he yelped, ‘Wait! Back up!’
Kevin jammed on the brakes, throwing them both against their seat belts. ‘What the fuck?’
‘Just back up, slowly.’
‘What is it?’ Kevin said, easing the car back towards a parking slot.
‘We’re idiots,’ Sam said, flicking through the photos Jamie had printed for them.
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘Her bike,’ Sam said, pulling out the shot of Leanne with her bike. ‘She rode her bike to work. Remember what Tara said?’
‘So?’
‘So the bike should still be where she left it. And I’m sure I saw a bike in the headlights as you turned. I’m going for a closer look.’
‘Please yourself,’ Kevin said. ‘Give me a shout if you’re right.’
Sam scrambled out of the car and ran across to the back of the club. The building was a U-shaped single-storey brick structure with all the imagination of a five-year-old’s Lego construction. A wooden fence linked the two arms of the U, forming an enclosed back yard where industrial skips for bottles and rubbish were stowed. The gate stood ajar, and it was through the gap that Sam thought he’d glimpsed a bike.
He slipped inside and saw at once he’d been right. The car headlights had caught the reflective fixtures on the back wheel and mudguard; the bike itself was tucked in behind one of the skips, chained to the fence with a heavy-duty chain. Sam compared it to the one in the photo. It was hard to be sure in the limited light, but he thought they matched. He was about to walk back to the car with the news when he heard a door sigh open then click closed nearby. He heard the snap and flare of a cigarette lighter and risked a peek round the edge of the skip.
In the glow of the cigarette, he could see the hard-faced bitch who’d given him and Kevin their marching orders. Sam glanced back to the car. Kevin was leaning against the head rest. He looked like he was taking a nap. It was just Sam and the woman. He considered for a moment. Sam was always driven by what would produce the best result for Sam. Normally, that didn’t include monstering a witness, because there were usually other people around to testify to his bad behaviour. But out here in the dark, behind a dodgy club, it would be his word against hers. And who was the credible one here? She’d already lied to him and Kevin, so he reckoned he was on solid ground.
Light on his feet, he edged round the skips so that he came up behind the woman. He was close enough to smell the heavy musk of her perfume, cut with the cigarette smoke, and still she was oblivious. Swift and sure, he snaked his arm round her throat and jerked her backwards. She stumbled into him, he shifted his hand over her mouth and with his other hand ripped her cigarette from her fingers. No nasty little burns for him.
She was wriggling and struggling, so he wrapped his other arm round her. ‘See how easy it is?’ he hissed into her ear. ‘You come out for a smoke, and there’s an evil fucker waiting for you. That’s what happened to Leanne. Or something very like that.’ He pushed her away, using a perversion of a dance move to swing her around facing him. His other arm pinned her to the wall.
‘Fucking copper.’ She spat at him but he was fast enough to avoid the gob of spit.
‘You lied to me, bitch,’ he said. ‘I could really hurt you, and nobody would believe you. But that’s not what I want. I just want the truth. I don’t want the bastard who killed Leanne to do the same thing to another woman. I’ve just shown you how easy it is. How very, very vulnerable you are. So what happened on Tuesday night?’
‘You wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me,’ she said. ‘I’ll have you for assault, attempted rape, the lot.’
Sam laughed. ‘Like anyone would believe a slag like you.’ He shifted his weight, straightened his fingers and jabbed his stiff hand under her ribs. She gasped with pain and shock. Sam remembered the secret thrill of being bad and tried not to let it ride him too hard. ‘I don’t want to hurt you – but I will. Tell me about Tuesday night.’
‘It was just like any night. Leanne came on about nine and did a few dances. She left around midnight. That’s all I know.’
‘Not good enough.’ Sam jabbed under the ribs again. ‘There’s more than that. What about the CCTV? You’ve got cameras on the car park. You’ve got cameras all over the club.’